“Love” by Czeslaw Milosz
Love means to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills ~
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness. It doesn’t matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn’t always understand.
I just wanted to say Happy Valentine’s to everybody who have been so supportive and kind to me. I appreciate your comments, the conversations I have had with people, and getting to “know” so many wonderful and interesting people! I know Valentine’s day can be rough for a lot of people, and it has been for me for years. However, I can report that after my lovely (not) marriage and ensuing divorce that I have found love in the oddest place. I have known him for years (22) and have been secretly in love with him for years. He is a long time friend and fellow cyclist who used to be one of my favorite riding partners before I became Buddhist and my Sundays got tied up.
So, I sent him a PM on Facebook explaining all of this to him. He didn’t read it before I deleted it. So, I rewrote it and determined that he was going to read it, and just anxiously waited (trying not to delete it, again). He, being a guy, had no clue and asked why I hadn’t said anything earlier and why had I married in the mean time. I told him he was in the middle of a divorce back then, and he needed time to heal from that. Can’t argue with logic. Then I was in the middle of a divorce and healing from that. So, that, in a round about fashion is how we ended up together.
Now I am stressed about Disability and in love with someone I have loved in secret for years. And, he loves me in return even with all my nuttiness 🙂
There is something that I want to write. I can feel it forming in my brain, I can sense it coming out the tips of my fingers, but I can’t seem to find the words. Anyone who knows me well knows that me being at a loss for words is a rare occurrence. It all started this morning before I woke up. I was dreaming of someone whom I love very much, and will probably love in absentia for the rest of my life. It was not the greatest dream. I could see him, but I could not reach him or talk to him. Something was preventing that. Space, time, maybe? I have not seen him since I got married, and to this day, considering what happened in my marriage, I do not know why I chose my ex-husband over this man who never judged me, never had total losses of temper regarding my mood swings (he just held me, and made things okay)….pardon me, I have to stop and cry for a bit. Damn tears came out of nowhere, I am going to have to buy some waterproof mascara for days like these.
Okay, tears dried up. I have no idea exactly where that came from. It is like the chances of rain in my city; it can thunder and blow and have lightening breaking across the sky and the incredibly dark clouds, and not a drop will fall, or the downpour will be so torrential that flood warnings are issued and we are warned to stay out of the arroyos and run-off ditches. That’s what feeling melancholy is like for me. Sometimes not a tear will come to my eye even when by all rights they should, and then sometimes they come out of nowhere to leave black streaks beneath my eyes (hence the waterproof mascara.)
I am lamenting a bad choice. I think that is what it is. I made the wrong decision, and am now regretting it as it was a decision that left me open to a man that did not really care about me (both as a person, period, and as a person with an affective disorder), was abusive in very subtle ways that left me questioning everything about my self as a woman and as a person, was incredibly critical and considered it constructive while I considered it simply criticizing for the sake of being contrary. The man that got left behind was never abusive, never critical, never judgmental, didn’t need to understand my mental issues to be a kind and loving friend; he just inherently understood me, and that I was different than other people. He loved me because I was me. I would wager he still does as he does not strike me as someone who loves easily or lightly. That is something we have in common; I do not love (or trust) easily or lightly. To this day, I wonder how my ex managed to pull the wool over my eyes until it was too late, and I was stuck with the creature he became after marrying. I did see my lover-friend once after I made the mistake of getting married. It was at a bike run that I drove four hours to get to just to see him one last time.
There is something that bound us to one another that I cannot put in words. It simply was. I told him one night after we had been out drinking beer and listening to live blues at some seedy bar that I needed to tell him something and he wasn’t allowed to think I was crazy. I told him late that night that I loved him, and his response (here we go with the tears again) to me was ” I have loved you for a long time.” That was the only time we said “I love you” to each other, and it never had to be said again. It was just something that was understood. I do not remember my ex ever telling me straight out that he loved me. It was always round about in some way, but it never came out as “I love you.” It was never to the point. I think that he loved the idea of me, but that he didn’t really love me as a real person with strengths and flaws and quirks.
The odd thing is the two men were fairly close in age, but they could not have had more different outlooks on life. Whereas one told me the last time he had use for a tie was in 1967 to tie his bedroll to his bike before taking off for Mexico, the other lamented the fact that he had no real reason to wear any of his extensive and expensive collection of ties. How did I make the choice to abandon my true lover-friend for my ex? Or maybe the question ought to be how did my ex convince me he was someone he was not; that he was open-minded, quirky, silly, serious, funny, liked the same things I did, had a similar sense of humor, liked to make me blush with some comment that usually took me a while to figure out completely, liked to tell me when I was walking to “stop fast”, wished he could play blues on the guitar and had since he was a boy, and was basically a complete pervert (but in a good way, not a damaging way?) That’s the question I cannot answer, and that is what I ponder frequently when I wake up dreaming of my lover-friend.
Hafiz ~ circa 1320-1389 was a mystic, Persian (present day Iran) Sufi poet. This selection,”We Have Not Come to Take Prisoners”, is from the lyrical poem “The Gift.”
“We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.
We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.
Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.
Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
“O please, O please,
Come out and play.”
For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,
But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom, and
Light!”
A very good friend of mine sent me the opening of the quote in an email, but I like the whole stanza. Always free yourself from anything or anyone who will not let you or will hinder your flight as a beautiful creature on this earth.
What is it about anniversaries of significant moments in our lives; both good and bad and some that are both at the same time? Is it the mind that remembers these times? Is it our heart that keeps these dates close? Or, are these moments so engraved upon our being that we cannot seem to forget? I only wonder as I have in the past when a significant date is coming up or has passed which of these questions is the true question. Or, if they all have correct answers.
On August 29th of this year I will have been divorced for one year exactly even though the process took a couple of months. What is bothering me is how I feel about it. I feel sad, but I also feel a sense of relief, I feel failure as this is or was the only time I got married, but at the same time, I feel the divorce was successful as it restored me to a form of equilibrium, I feel freedom, but also a sense of being shackled as I now have to start the whole process all over again, and I am not the free-wheeling 20-something that I used to be. I am now a grown woman that will not settle as I used to. I have my ways of doing things that will conflict with another’s ideas about how things should work. I have much higher standards than in my college years. I know exactly what type of man I want, and I am afraid that he got away when I decided to get married to someone that I share very little with. Hence, the divorce that I initiated.
I always believed that I would get married once and only once, and so I waited until I thought the right man had come to me. I still believe that I will marry once and only once because of the trauma that relationship put both of us through, the verbal abuse (he saw it as constructive criticism), the emotional neglect has only begun to heal, to suture those gaping wounds left in my heart and my mind.
As the date approaches, I feel more and more anxious. I am concerned that I will not meet another man like the one I knew. The man who loved me so unconditionally that he even loved my mood swings, my paranoia, my anxiety attacks, and my being prone to fatalistic thinking. He loved me with all my quirks, strengths, flaws, and craziness. Nothing could rattle this man. If I was having a bad day, he hugged me, kissed the top of my head, said nothing and left, but I felt better. I told him one time that I loved him, only once. His response was “I have loved you for a long time”. He said it once, but he meant it with all his heart and soul. We only had to say it once. It did not need to be confirmed. That we loved each other just was. It scares me to think that there may only be one man like this, only one man who fit so neatly into my heart that I loved him without question, and he loved me in return. Here comes the “what if” question; what if he was the perfect “soul mate” for me, and I for him and I lost him to marry another who was anything but?
I do not like anniversaries at all, but at least now I am old enough to have gained the wisdom that time does not heal all wounds, but it does make them bearable. However, right now, with the date looming just a a little less than a month away, I feel like a scab has been picked off and I have become a member of the walking wounded. I think I have answered my question; these dates are engraved upon our being, and as humans, we will never completely forget. Forgive, yes, forget, no. I do not believe it is our nature to forget. I hope I am wrong about that.
I do promise to finish the series that led me from birth to Bipolar disorder, but allow me to engage in a bit of reminiscent sappiness. This song was recorded when I was three (3) years old in 1974, and has sustained me for the past few days where I have been depressed but not depressed enough to be “ill.” It is called “Let It Grow” and is by Eric Clapton. It reminds me that hope springs eternal, and all is not lost in love or war 🙂
So, here it is again. Seems like time is getting shorter, or maybe I am just getting older. I woke up early this morning so that I can deal with my mad morning hair, but my cat thinks it is so she can claim my bed. She didn’t even meow Merry Christmas before she took up a spot on the bed which ensures that I will not be able to make it this morning. I am going to have a small Christmas with my mom, her husband, his daughter and her girlfriend this morning. It is interesting the way Christmas has changed over the years, It used to be my sister, my mom, and my father early in the morning followed by trooping over to my grandparent’s houses. In my 20’s, it was my mom’s, then my father’s, then my uncle’s, and finally, my fiance’s parents. It made for a very long, not easily enjoyed Christmas.
My 30’s saw me single, struggling with a diagnosis of manic-depression, very unhappy, and it would be my mom’s and my uncle’s houses, but nobody really knew what to say to me except my grandma, who simply pointed out that we live as well as we can with what we are given. She didn’t say much about anything, but when she did, you listened. It was her that I called when I had my first car accident at 15, and when my kitten was hit by a car when I was 18. I miss her very much. Much more so this year than last when the reality of her death had not yet really set in. I do not remember Christmas last year. I think my mom and her husband were out of town leaving me at loose ends with my failing marriage to try and make Christmas happen. I was not really in a Christmasy spirit last year.
My 40’s find me single again (small sigh of relief; my marriage was a very unhealthy place for me). I do not wish him any ill-will, and hope he has found a way to celebrate Christmas. Christmas may not be a traditional “family” affair this year, but it seems somehow better. I remember the first time my “step”-sister brought her girlfriend to Christmas or maybe Thanksgiving, and how stressed out her father was to have his fears about her orientation confirmed. I had known for years, and I think he had too, but he struggled with it. It has been really interesting and heartwarming watching him come to terms with it, and make his his peace (without, I might add, becoming one of those parents who cannot handle his child’s life). She is a wonderful, lively, highly intelligent young woman.
My mom has hit another milestone birthday having turned 70 about three weeks ago, and she is coping with the loss of her mother last year. For myself, I am coming to terms with the idea that my father either doesn’t really care how I am, or cannot handle what I have. His solution to most problems has been to throw money at it; he has never been able to handle emotion. I am newly divorced, and have decided that I do not think I will try that again. It is just too difficult to find that rare combination of person who can handle the good times, the not so good times, and the psychotic times. Although, our postman is awfully cute, about my age, and I see no ring 🙂
So, I think this Christmas will do. It is my first being over the shock of my grandma, the first where I didn’t get all OCD about checking the mail for a card from my father; normally I would check the mail 3-4 times everyday looking for the card I knew wasn’t coming. I just knew this year it wasn’t coming. Not even a card on the annoyingly impersonal University of North Dakota’s presidential stationery. I met my “step”-sister’s newish girlfriend yesterday. She seemed very nice. So, as nontraditional as my current family is, at least I know Christmas will be spent with a super blended family that suits me fine.
There is no judgment in this family. My “step” father has OCD, is high anxiety, and is a recovering alcoholic of thirty plus years, my mom has been stellar in her understanding of my strange moods and whims, my “step” sister is adopted and gay, so I think there is room for a manic-depressive. It is a motley crew, but there is love and understanding, and that, in my opinion, is what makes a family,
I hope that everyone finds a way to celebrate this day whether they are alone, married, with a partner, divorced, disenfranchised, estranged, or any other condition people find themselves in…….
I have one certainty right now. I have BPAD type I with psychotic features, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder with and without Agoraphobia, and Panic Disorder. It it not amusing that 3 of 4 are anxiety disorders that are triggered by stress which I am undergoing to an extreme that I never have in the past. Not this kind of stress. I can handle work-related stress, the everyday stress that comes from sharing this planet with so many different people, but I don’t know if I can handle this level of emotional stress. I feel that I may go insane (I have a list to choose from), and this time I may not come back in the same form I left in. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I am paralyzed in my mind where I go to hide. I feel like a coin being tossed and whatever comes up heads is where I go that day. If it’s tails, do not bother getting out of bed, it won’t be worth the time, energy or pain that will go into trying to stay positive in the face of extremely negative circumstances.
Everyone thinks I am strong and I am not. I am a quivering mass that is hiding behind a facade of normalcy and strength. Unless you have experienced this type of emotional stress, you will not understand what I am going on about. My husband is going to be served with divorce papers tomorrow, and neither one of us have a place to go live other than where we are. So, we are living together for the next three months. I do not think this is going to finally be the proverbial straw, and I go off the deep end (I am already in the deep end), and never come back. This is going to color my world for a long time, I think. My whole paradigm about relationships has shifted, and it remains to be seen in which direction. My last long term relationship lasted 9 years, but at the time no one knew that I had manic-depression. PTSD, yes. But nothing that could explain the Bipolar symptoms that were beginning to manifest. Now, I know, and I feel an obligation to whoever can love me to tell them so they will know from the get go what they are in for. Ideally, this person will not be swayed and will learn how to be with someone who has periods of mania and severe depression. And, they will care and not care at the same time. They will love me for me, and the disorder won’t always be the elephant in the room like it is now.
He doesn’t understand what he did wrong in the marriage, I totally get what I did wrong. I am divorcing him for those reasons, not because I do not love him, but because I do love him and care about his welfare, and I am not an easy person to be around sometimes. I do things and say things that are harmful and damaging. And, I am trying to protect him from me, and to a certain extent, myself from him. I cannot tolerate his pet diversion any longer and still respect myself as a woman. I can no longer live with someone who refuses to try to learn something about Bipolar disorder since that has been the most disruptive of all my diagnoses. How can one handle something that one has no real knowledge of? I have to live with it everyday. You can be damn sure I read whatever I can get that is legitimate and not “pop” psychology. I cannot do battle against something that I do not understand. No one can. At least not effectively. I hope I can get through this without becoming cynical and jaded. I hope that I can get through this without any drama, or me going way off the radar of “normal” feeling.
I just hope that……hell, I do not know what I hope. I do not even know how I feel. I do not even know if I am feeling or if I am pretending which I am so good at. I just know something is off about me these days. I do not think I have allowed myself to feel because then I would be useless. Maybe I will let myself feel when I have time. Maybe.
Even though Jim Morrison was a seriously troubled man with a severe alcohol dependency, there were definitely things he said and wrote that can make a person stop and say “hmmmmmm.” The above quote is one of those things, at least for me, being as how I am on anti-psychotic medication for mood stabilization and partly, I think, to treat the symptoms of PTSD. Something my father told me once is practically a perfect mirror of this quote (this was back before he decided to “disown” me). He taught Histology (study of cells) and Gross Anatomy (dissection for anyone who doesn’t know). We were talking about the mechanism by which psychotropic medication, specifically anti-depressants that work directly on Norepinephrine, Dopamine, Seratonin, and Monamine Oxidase, and he said that they are like keys to a lock. They mimic the chemical composition of the neuro-transmitter, and plug themselves into the receptor thereby increasing the supply of the naturally produced neurotransitter. However, he said something interesting in the rather dry explanation of how these drugs work, he said that when the artificial molecule locks into place, it is like a door closing. He said that scientists do not really know how these neuro-transmitters really work, but that when they do lock into place, it is like one door closing leaving another one to open.
I was thinking about this today (my birthday of all days). The above quote describes everything. It is all encompassing. There are things that are known and accepted without question like the speed of light, the amount of force it takes to achieve orbit around the Earth, the amount of force it takes to leave Earth’s atmosphere, the fact that one sock will always go missing when you do laundry. These things are known to be true, and are not challenged. Then there are things unknown and ideas about them are in constant flux. The existence of Dark Matter to explain the discrepancy in the weight of known matter and the actual weight of the Universe, how psychiatric medication really works, how gravity holds our planet in place, why Einstein’s interest in time travel was never really explored, why some people are predisposed to addiction and/or mental “interestingness”, how much influence genetics has, how people assign value to things like time and money. These are things that are not known, at least to me. In between these known and unknown things are the doors (of perception, from William Blake’s poem).
Exactly how does one open the doors of perception? Jim Morrison would have said with the aid of hallucinogens….. having experienced that type of perceptual shift, I would say he and Timothy Leary were right. However, I have noticed that while one is influenced by whatever hallucinogen one chooses, one can understand the whole Universe, solve all world problems, and know the true meaning of life, but you better write it all down because all that “knowledge” will be gone the next day.
I think if you let it, love can also open the doors between the known and the unknown. But it is a different type of known versus unknown. In this case, what is known while one is single is completely different to what one must allow to become known. Love is a huge unknown that requires huge leaps of faith, a letting down of defenses, “allowing” yourself to receive and give love. If you cannot allow yourself to receive love, you will not be able to return it in kind. If your defenses remain intact, your “lens” will never shift. You will end up single but with somebody. If you cannot “allow” yourself to know what it is like to be loved, your ability to “allow” yourself to love in return will be paralyzed. Your whole paradigm has to shift from one type of knowing to another, and this requires opening doors within yourself. You have to open all your doors to experience love while closing off others. Love is one of the greatest of unknowns.
There are many different kinds of doors, but they all have one thing in common: a shift in thinking or in your world view. Intellectual knowledge of what is accepted to be true and that which is still “in testing” involves one set of doors. In order to continue exploring and pursuing the intellectual requires an opening of the creative mental doors, a shift in the paradigm of what has been proven true and what is still under observation. One has to be able to have new ideas, new ways of thinking about the unknown. I really think that human emotions are the greatest knowns and unknowns. Anger, sadness, hostility, one can usually attach a “known” source to emotions such as those. Love, attraction, like, those are unknowns. When asked, most people cannot explain why they love someone, they just do. When asked why they are attracted to someone, most people do not know that either. What has happened is the doors between the known and unknown are open, and one’s perception has shifted in order to open those doors. If they stay shut, love is not received in a positive way, it goes unrequited. And one cannot love another back if those doors remain shut. All human discovery, emotion, thought, and ideas have involved the opening of the doors between the known and the unknown. It has to be that way for anything to happen. Discovery does not occur without rethinking a “known” idea. Emotions such as love will not flourish without opening one’s defenses. Creative thought will not occur without opening the door to a different way of viewing a problem or a solution. New ideas will not flourish without a shift in one’s “lens” or allowing oneself to be open to a different paradigm. Everything relies on those doors of perception to open in order to advance anything from science to human relations.
The doors of perception are in each of us. All we have to do is let them open, and wondrous things can occur. However, it can take a rather large leap of faith to allow oneself to open one door and close another. Sorry for the weird post. I have been thinking way too much since the divorce filing.
Scarbough Fair/Canticle ~ Simon and Garfunkel
A Bipolar Journey Through The Rabbit Hole 